Continuation: Snow White and the Huntsman
by MissBellamy
Summary: Previously, "Epilogue: Snow White and the Huntsman" and previously in a different category ... though I never intended a story of this magnitude, the response was so gracious and amazing that I couldn't help creating a fuller story. A continuation of the Snow White story beginning right where the movie leaves off.
1. Chapter 1

Snow White and the Huntsman

She felt the beginning tug of a smile lift the corners of her lips when she caught sight of him through the dense crowd at her coronation. She already felt the weight of responsibility resting on top of her head where the new crown rested, making her breath catch in her throat and her heartbeat speed up with the same fear she had felt in the Dark Forest. But just as he had been her savior in the hell of those woods, so he was here amidst the fear of her uncertainty.

She was near panic at the thought of running an entire kingdom on her own – imagine it, the girl barely out of her adolescent years who had scarcely spoken to a single soul since she was captured and imprisoned in a tower as a child. Snow White barely had any familiarity with society at all, had only experienced the people living in her kingdom in the life-changing week it had taken her to defeat Revena, with the help of the Huntsman, Duke Hammond, and the Dwarves. Now she was expected to _run_ a society. Fear overwhelmed her.

But the second she found his face in the crowd, and felt his unbearably bright blue eyes on her, his smile allayed her fears in an instant. The look on his face seemed to tell her he would protect and support her still, as he had the day they met, no matter what they may face. She felt an inexplicable calm.

The moment passed, and she lost sight of his face in the coronation proceedings. After many passage readings, intonations, and repeated prayers, a celebratory feast began. Dukes and duchesses, lords and ladies, knights, dwarves, and the common folk all joined in together to eat, dance, and celebrate the beginning of the rightful Queen's reign. Snow White smiled and thanked her supporters, an endless stream of villagers who wanted to express how happy they were she had ended Revena's reign of terror. The young girls of the village were safe again.

Duke Hammond finally swept in and saved her, telling the throng of happy townspeople that the Queen must break to eat and would gladly resume their audience another day. After all, she had the rest of her life to prove herself as a good queen. Snow shot Hammond a thankful look and moved away from the crowd. The celebration was taking place in the castle gardens, newly revived by caretakers that had been around since Snow White's father had been King.

Snow White wandered through some high, clipped hedges to a quiet corner of the garden, removed from the feast. She perched on a modest wood bench, letting herself exhale for the first time since they had placed the crown on her head.

To her right, she knew the Huntsman rested against a stone well in the shadows. He moved away from the well, moving slowly until he stood directly in front of her. He dropped to one knee, bowing his head. "My Queen."

The rumbling of his voice squeezed her heart. "My Huntsman," she returned ruefully. "Please rise, sir. I won't allow the hero who has saved my wretched life many times now to bow before me. If it weren't for you, I'd be dead in the depths of the Dark Forest." She ducked her head.

"I thought you were dead." He whispered. Her eyes shot back up to meet his. "I still don't understand how-" His voice halted, unsure. "I saw you there, lying dead and cold. I failed to protect you." He finished.

She smirked. "You _saved _me."

She continued, attempting to explain when his brow furrowed with disbelief. "I was dead and cold on the outside, but within, I was aware of everything. I could not move or speak but I could hear, and I could feel. I remember lying on a bed of furs when you came and spoke to me." His eyes widened.

"You spoke of your sorrow for your wife and how you hadn't felt anything since her death. Then you said I reminded you of her, and you felt as desolate of my enchanted slumber as you did of her death. You felt sorrow that you couldn't protect either of us." Then Snow put two fingers against her bottom lip. "You kissed me."

"When you left, I felt tears running over my cheeks. I could feel my fingers twitch. Your kiss saved me from death." She finally admitted.

"I know I cannot speak for your dear wife, but allow me to say this: if you offered her your protection and trust as you did me, then you did not fail her. You gave to her the greatest gift." Snow White fixed the Huntsman with imploring eyes, but he was frozen, still kneeling before her.

"I confess I fear the tasks that lay before me as Queen, knowing you will likely return to your village to hunt." His brow crinkled, though he continued to stare at her.

She lost all semblance of royal formality.

"I can't do this without you."

The voice that uttered this plea was not that of a Queen; it was the voice of a lost little girl.

He responded immediately, her fear propelling him out of his stupor. He took her hand against his heart and wiped a fallen tear away with his calloused thumb, allowing his warm, rough palm to brush against her cheek.

"You have already proven you don't need me to protect you." He pointed out gently.

"But if you'll allow it," she swallowed nervously, "I want you at my side. As the Captain of the Queen's Guard."

At this, he smiled, and Snow could feel her heaviness lifting.

"You can have my life and my honor, my Queen."

A second later, he asked, "Is that the only reason you want me at your side?"

She shook her head solemnly, fear closing up her throat.

The Huntsman looked guarded, cautious.

"And what of William? The Duke of Hammond's son is highborn like you, closest to your age, and not to mention irrevocably in love with you. He is your perfect match." He said, but he sounded insincere even to his own ears. "He would make a worthy king."

"But his kiss did not break my spell and end my suffering." She whispered haltingly, afraid to meet his steady gaze. "His were not the eyes that kept watch over me at night in the wilderness. His were not the arms that blocked me from every foe, and his were not the hands that carried me to safety. His was not the heart that believed in me despite everything, even after I ceased to breathe."

He sighed wearily. "My Queen, you don't want to cast your lot with a man like me. I am already damaged by war and loss. I gave up honor for the life of a lecherous drunk, and I am certainly not an appropriate suitor for a beautiful maiden Queen. You haven't yet come to know the disappointment men impose on girls with your unsoiled loveliness. I would ruin you." This muttered, bumbling speech left the Huntsman awash in the misery of his own insecurities, still clutching Snow's hand against his chest and looking utterly wrecked.

She moved her hands to rest on either side of his face, to make sure he looked directly at her. She met his miserable gaze with a small, girlish smile.

"You have already ruined me."

Her whispered confession broke the last wall between them, and he answered her by dropping to both knees and pulling her close to him, her slight body pressed against his generously muscled one.

He brushed her loosely braided hair away from her face, looking into her wide eyes earnestly.

"I'll be right here to protect you for as long as you'll have me." He promised.

She smirked. "I hope you'll plan on forever, because that is how long I will require your services."

He laughed, the laugh of someone whose burden has been lightened.

"That may give me just enough time to be able to describe how beautiful you are to me, my Queen." His lips brushed against her pale cheek.

"Call me Snow."

And that was the last thing either of them said for a long while, after his warm lips finally found hers in a gentle, slow kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

Epilogue: Snow White and the Huntsman

Chapter 2

"This morning you will hold court in the throne room, attend to small civil cases and village issues. There are already near four score villagers outside the Grand Hall, in line awaiting your justice. We'll adjourn for the noon meal, where you'll break bread with the war council and they will brief you on security detail for the castle and foreign affairs. You will have a short rest mid-afternoon, unless you'd like to attend the celebratory joust on your new Sporting Grounds, and then this evening we are hosting the royal ambassadors from the Northern Kingdoms at your first ball." Duke Hammond, Snow's Royal Advisor, rattled off her schedule for the day from the other side of her dressing screen. Behind the screen, a silent handmaiden was lacing up the elaborate back panel of a navy-colored gown.

"Gee, is that all?" Snow White muttered, earning her a reproachful smirk from the handmaiden.

"Sorry, your Majesty?" Duke Hammond asked.

"Nothing, sir Duke."

And so the day began.

The assembly line of village judiciary issues was much more taxing than she imagined it would be. Naturally, Snow was not the type of Queen that lounged in her throne, issuing decrees that left both sides unsatisfied. She sat forward on her gilt and velvet throne, listened carefully to the grievances of the villagers without interrupting, and was unafraid to ask the council of her Advisor or any of the other older advisors in attendance that had held their station much longer than she had been a queen.

Halfway through a dispute over the placement of a chicken coop on the far side of the village, Snow noticed the guard stationed at the door of the Grand Hall being replaced by one very broad, familiar, and smiling Captain of the Guard. The scarlet banner over his chain mail and leather suited him well; she noticed he wore no helmet and wielded no shield like the other guards, though his sword was hanging from his belt. She forced her eyes back to the aggrieved villagers.

After a whirlwind of royal duties, Snow was finally told it was time to call the judicial court to a close and move on to the War Council. She immediately obliged, relieved, and wished everyone in attendance a happy day. Afterwards, she blushed, wondering if such a send-off befits a queen. Her eyes flicked toward the door, but no one stood there now.

Mentioning to Duke Hammond the necessity for a moment alone to take care of queenly bodily functions, Snow slipped down a side passage to the right of the Great Hall, planning to take the longest, quietest route to the War Council meeting.

Finally allowing herself to sigh as she meandered down the hall, Snow wondered for a moment if she could shoulder the weight of her responsibilities. Certainly, she wanted to be a good monarch, but it wasn't exactly a job that left time for recreational pursuits. Still, being Queen was not what she'd wanted; it was her birthright.

Suddenly, a hand shot out from a dim corridor and pulled her into the dark.

Snow White barely had time for a shocked shriek before she realized her Huntsman had her pinned against the stone wall of the corridor, one hand clapped over her mouth.

She relaxed momentarily, smiling against his hand, before she arched one brow and smacked him reproachfully on the chest.

"You scared me near to death!" she scolded him when he removed his hand.

He had the cheek to grin at her, and then the wisdom to try to look abashed when she did not relent.

She laughed at his attempt. "You have no remorse at all, do you?" she asked.

He smirked. "Cheeky bastard," she muttered.

His hands came up to rest against the wall on either side of her head, and he leaned down closer to her. "I _am_ sorry, my Queen. I couldn't help myself, after watching you so carefully all morning, commanding the room the way you so naturally can. Half the men in that room were awed just looking at your face, and those that managed their wits enough to speak to you lost them immediately after you opened your mouth." He teased her, tilting his head to press unbearably warm, soft kisses against the side of her neck. First one side, then the other, making Snow White shiver.

In an effort to distract herself from how near his body was to hers, she grimaced at him. "Don't make fun. It's ludicrous, expecting men of every age and temperament to accept the so-called wisdom of a girl barely out of bloomers as the law of their country. I'm not prepared for this role at all! I should be deciding how to repair the sewage system in the village and building rapport with foreign dignitaries, but all I can think about is how desperately I want to be alone with _you_. I'm no better than a schoolgirl." She let her head fall back against the stone wall in frustration.

Her Huntsman's brow furrowed in consternation. "First of all, my Queen, you are _well_ past the age of a girl in bloomers." A beat of anxiety.

"You are, right?"

Snow rolled her eyes at him and nodded. "I'm nineteen, sir Huntsman," she assured him.

The wrinkle in his brow relaxed slightly. "Oh good. Perhaps I'll only be damned to the very outer rings of hell, yet."

His jest did what he intended, and she cracked a small smile. He took both of her tiny hands in his and looked earnestly into her eyes.

"Snow, you have no idea what grace and wisdom you already possess for someone so young. I saw it in there, and so did everyone else in the room. You rule with a kind heart, and after the decade these people suffered under Revena, you are exactly what they need. The rest will come with experience." He promised.

His words made her feel calm.

He continued, "And as for feeling distracted by my presence … I know exactly how you feel. I find you," he paused, searching for the correct way to express himself, " – incredibly distracting," he finished.

He gave her a wicked grin, tracing the line of her collarbone with his fingertip.

"But luckily for us, my love, I will be leading much of the discourse in the War Council we must make haste to now. If there's anything that could douse the fires of attraction, it will be listening to me blather on about troop formations and mud trenches and Northern war customs." He promised, and with that, he laced his fingers with hers and they made their way to the next royal duty.

The Huntsman's plan had the opposite of its intended result. Snow White found that seeing him lead the men around the table in a discussion of foreign policy, commanding the room in some moments and offering quiet expertise to fellow Royal Guards in others, was quite distracting indeed.

His blue eyes blazed when he made a quick, passionate judgement. The muscles in his shoulders rippled discreetly when he leaned back to consider a point, and she even caught him winking at her when a particularly snobbish guard made an unenlightened crack about a foreign country. The Huntsman was quick to disregard the man's ignorance.

Not only did Snow find herself feeling unseasonably warm and flushed once the war council came to an end, she also felt unalterably confident in her decision to make him the Captain of the Guard. He was a natural leader, and now that he was coming out of his self-deprecating sorrow over his late wife, he commanded his guards with genial camaraderie rather than severity.

He passed her on his way out of the council, held her hand briefly in front of the various guards and advisors, and he bowed. "My Queen," he said by way of goodbye, and when he left she found he had tucked a tiny note in her hand. When the attention of her attendants was diverted elsewhere, Snow opened the note and read.

_Our well at sundown, if you can sneak away._

She suppressed a grin.

Of course, the girl who had broken out of the High Tower and fled the castle with nothing but a nail in her fist found a way to sneak into her own garden as twilight spread peace over the castle.

He was there waiting, right where she knew he would be. As she approached, he opened his arms to her, and she stepped into his embrace readily. She leaned her head against his broad chest and wrapped her arms around his waist, breathing in a smell that reminded her of the enchanted fairy forest and warm bonfires, and another scent that was decidedly masculine and comforting.

"I don't know how long I can last with stolen moments and secret meetings." She admitted, not daring to look in his eyes.

"If only I had all the time in the world to devote to extolling your virtues and kissing that gorgeous mouth, but some killjoy stubborn queen saddled me with a responsibility for her protection." He joked, lifting her head with a finger under her chin.

"And I tend to take such things seriously." That part was definitely not in jest.

He lowered his mouth to hers, gently parting her lips to caress her tongue with his. With her, he was never not slow and gentle and so, so careful of his desires.

"Plus I think you and your kingdom need to get used to the new order of things, without the extensive machinations of a royal courtship mucking things up." He added grimly.

"You don't wish to court me properly?" she asked, hurt clouding her eyes.

He fixed her with a level stare.

"I would marry you this instant if there weren't any political repercussions to consider." He admitted.

She grimaced, "Sir Huntsman, as proposals go, that one was a bit lacking in romance for my taste."

He sighed, cupped her face in his hands and considering her carefully.

"My love, I am barely fit for the office you bestowed upon me. The very idea that attempting to make an honest woman out of you would result in my sharing your responsibilities as King of the Realm is downright _disturbing_." He reasoned. She remained unconvinced.

"If it's the office attached to the marriage that frightens you, then why make the marriage official at all? Be the lover of the Queen and assume no responsibility except ownership of my heart." She negotiated, but the Huntsman looked horrified.

"You assume so little of me, that I could defile a queen with no remorse? Am I such an ass, you think I could gladly tarnish your honor?" With each word, his anger grew.

She glared at him. "I only want whatever part of yourself you are willing to give. At first you would give me everything, and now it seems you offer me nothing."

"You have the patience of a child that was locked in a dungeon through the years she might have matured. You want all of me? It is _yours_, Snow, I'm only trying to explain there is a correct time and place to barter the virginity of a royal!" His eyes blazed and hands clenched.

Snow White's fair skin was flushed with anger and humiliation. "If you'll _excuse_ me," she said coldly, "this child must go find her nursemaid to prepare for the party. I best go now, or I'll risk missing my favorite nursery rhyme." And with that, she turned and stormed away from him.

The Huntsman waited a beat, and then another, while his quick breathing slowed and his fists unclenched. Finally, he sighed and slumped against the low stone ring of the old well.

"Perfect delivery, you horse's ass." He muttered.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Snow White gazed into the enormous mirror along the wall of her dressing chamber, glumly considering her reflection. Her dark hair was pulled up off her neck to better display the elaborate sage green and gold gown she wore, with its sheer gold cape, trailing sleeves, and tightly laced bodice. She felt out of touch with society, remembering the finery her parents had worn when she was a young girl. Back then, necklines had been higher, sleeves more voluminous, and jewels chunky and heavier. One of her chambermaids fixed her dainty, swirling gold crown into her complicated hairstyle.

"You look ravishing, your grace," the chambermaid complimented her as she left the room. Snow White caught herself looking perturbed in the mirror, and she muttered at her reflection, "Too bad no one is interested in ravishing the Queen of childhood shut-ins."

Duke Hammond and his son, William, were at the door to escort her down to the Great Hall for her first ball. "My Queen, you look stunning!" William exclaimed, bowing his bead before her. "Thank you, William, you look well yourself." She returned. And William did, indeed, look splendid in a black velvet suit with a gold sash thrown over his chest. The gold color set against his curly dark hair and dark eyes made him look dapper and lovely, but Snow couldn't help but find herself yearning for powerful shoulders that looked out of place in lovely fabrics like velvet, golden hair pulled away from a strong, masculine brow, and intense blue eyes. Compared to the stalwart, rugged man of action that had almost literally stumbled into her heart, William seemed far too polished, and … well, smooth. How strange that what her heart wanted was the rather unsophisticated sincerity and incorrigible stubbornness of the man who had originally been sent to cut her heart from her chest.

Downstairs at the Ball, the master of ceremonies announced Duke Hammond first. William took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. "Allow me to escort you, my lady." It wasn't really a request so much as an instruction, and Snow allowed him to guide her through the crowd as the announcement rang throughout the hall, "May I present her Majesty the Queen, Snow White, escorted by William of Hammond, son of Duke Hammond!"

Snow tried to smile and greet everyone around her as William led her to the center of the floor. "A dance, your majesty?" he suggested, taking the liberty to place her free hand on his shoulder and put his own hand against the small of her back. They commenced with a complicated dance that Duke Hammond and some of the ladies of the court had shown her in preparation for the ball. She felt a little jolt of pride as she hit the right steps and whirled in time with the string band that played from a raised platform in the corner. A small crowd of people around them joined in with the song.

William flashed her a pleased smile as she spun in to meet him, and she smiled back in the instant before she spun away again to repeat the gesture with the next partner. She still had the smile on her face when she turned and immediately saw an all-too-familiar face watching her intently from the crowd. The smile froze in place, and she shifted her attention to her new dance partner, but her enjoyment of the dance had dissipated. She felt fury and embarrassment hit her again, and she stumbled through one of the steps of the dance that a moment before she had mastered. _Damn him_.

The dance ended, and she bowed graciously to some of the other participants before moving away from the dance floor. William followed her, and together they greeted some of the guests of honor, foreign dignitaries from the Northern Regions. Duke Hammond made the introductions, and Snow tried to keep up with the pleasantries, but her mind was elsewhere.

She could see the Huntsman across the room, speaking quietly with one of his royal guards, a solemn look on his face. Her heart lurched just to look at him. He had dressed up, in his own fashion, in a clean brown leather tunic over a navy-colored shirt, a red and gold crest denoting his status as Captain of the Queen's Guard. He actually cleaned up pretty gracefully, but his solid mass would always make him look more suited for battle than parties, to her.

Suddenly, his eyes flicked up and met hers from across the room. She turned away, immediately flustered, and saw William eyeing her steadily. His fingers brushed her hand discreetly, down by her side where the touch was hidden from the rest of the room by her voluminous skirts. "Is everything all right, your grace?" he murmered.

Compulsively, she glanced back in the Huntsman's direction to see his mouth set in a hard line, obviously observing the exchange between her and William. Her gaze returned to William's concerned face, now much closer than she originally realized, and she smiled indulgently at him. "Everything is fine, William." Then she leaned closer to his ear, keeping the secretive smile pasted on her face. Her fingers found his down at their sides. "Care for another dance?" she asked.

He crooked an eyebrow at her, but he nodded. He led her out onto the floor and she attacked the next dance, more of a waltz than a line dance, with concentration and intent. William chuckled at her. "Relax, my sweet Queen. This is a dance, not an obstacle course."

Unabashed, she continued to dance, every so often allowing her gaze to find the one figure that stood out so prominently for her among the crowd. He was positively glowering now, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall by the entrance to the hall. She thought she saw William smirk in her direction, but so diverted was her attention that she couldn't be sure.

When the song ended, William pulled her close and brushed his lips against her cheek. She almost pushed him away out of shock, but she caught herself as he whispered in her ear, "I believe you've made him suitably jealous, Your Highness, now would you _please_ dispense with the games and just go talk to him?"

She pulled back to look at William, wide-eyed, and he simply laughed at her. Sensing her discomfort, he took her hand and led her through the crowd. People parted on either side of them as she passed, partly out of royal respect and partly to admire the fair queen. He brought her to the enormous glass doors that led out to the terrace above the castle gardens. It was obviously decorated for romantic rendezvous, a secluded getaway from the bustle of the ball with candles scattered along the stone railing, a trickling fountain, and white and purple flowers decorating a trellised arch overhead.

Once outside, William settled against the low stone partition separating them from the garden below, crossed his arms, and looked at her expectantly.

She sighed. "William, I'm sorry," she said, her voice sincere and regretful. He nodded. "I forgive you, but only because you're a monarch now and can have my head removed if you so choose." He replied. Snow actually found herself grinning, and she shoved his shoulder playfully. "It's only for the sake of your thirty-odd shameless admirers in there that I don't." she joked, jerking her thumb toward the ballroom.

He chortled slightly, and then looked at her with incredible earnestness. "Alas, there's only one girl I have my eye on, and I'm not what she wants."

Snow felt her heart plummet. "Oh, William –"

He cut her off, brushing the matter aside with a wave of his hand. "Snow, even I am not fool enough to think that a childhood crush can last forever. But I would have to be a _damned_ fool not to see who it is you hope to affect with that little stunt in there. And since now you've obviously put my neck and my much too lovely face at risk of being beaten to a pulp by that mountain who was watching us while we danced, you owe me an explanation."

"Isn't this the part where I commence with a queenly reprimand that you're being too familiar?" she diverted.

"Go on, _your Majesty_." William encouraged her, sarcastically, and Snow had to admit it was a relief to let down the regimented rules of royal conduct and speak to her friend as an equal.

"The Huntsman's kiss was what woke me from my enchanted slumber." She began.

William looked taken aback.

"Well, a guess a bloke can't really hope to compete with that."

She pointedly ignored him.

"I know he cares for me, but I'm afraid he thinks me a child. He said as much earlier today, but I'm afraid he was right in accusing me of acting like one. I was asking him to lay some sort of proper, public claim on me, and he thought we should wait until the kingdom – and I, I suppose – have settled into my role as Queen." She explained the situation; glad to have a friendly ear to hear her.

William nodded. "He may not have expressed it in the proper way, but he is right. Are you sure he's not just trying to do the honorable thing?"

She grimaced. "I'm just worried he may feel he's betraying his wife." She admitted.

He smiled at her gently. "You won't know unless you discuss this with him," he pointed out.

She harrumphed at him, an immediate surrender. "I know you're right."

His smile became a cheeky grin. "And those words, my darling, are the most beautiful you've ever uttered."

"Now, we're going to go back in there, you are going to talk to your Huntsman, and I am going to dance with a hundred other pretty ladies with far less emotional baggage than you." He decided. She laughed and threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you, William."

Their heartfelt bonding moment was interrupted with heavy, decisive footfalls coming toward them from the direction of the ball. As William pulled away, Snow barely had time to register what was happening before a huge pair of hands grabbed the front of Williams vestments and shook him.

"Are you out of your head, man?" a very angry Huntsman hissed at him. "The very first royal ball her majesty is hosting, for the purpose of good will between our kingdom and the Northern Regions, and you have her sequestered out here away from all the guests doing _God knows what_!"

William smirked lecherously, leering for the Huntsman's benefit in Snow's direction. "What can I say? The lady needed my _full_ attention." Snow White simply rolled her eyes at him.

Neither of them expected the Huntsman's fist to come rocketing toward William's face.

"OW!" he yelled. William brought a hand up to his slightly bloodied nose. "That was a _joke_, you damned ogre!"

Snow White stepped in front of William, beyond livid.

"You have a _hell_ of a lot of nerve, sir Huntsman. Especially after what we talked about this afternoon! You're not willing to show your interest in me in public, but you'll attack the first man who _is_ willing?" she spat out.

The Huntsman was practically snarling in William's direction. "And I'm supposed to just _let_ that idiot speak that way about a Queen? No, not _a_ queen… _my_ queen." His hands were clenched into fists at his sides.

Snow shoved him ineffectually. "William is my _friend_, sir Huntsman. What are _you_?" she asked pointedly.

Suddenly, William was standing next to them, nose still dripping blood. "Snow…"

"Not now, William."

"Hold your tongue, boy."

"Don't _talk _to him like that!"

"I don't understand why you come to _his_ defense when I am the one defending your honor!"

"DOWN!" William roared.

The next few seconds seem to happen in slow motion, but as Snow turned, startled, to look at William, the Huntsman turned toward the ball they three had abandoned and saw the first signs of siege. Duke Hammond had drawn his sword in response to the Northern dignitaries slitting the throat of a soldier in the Royal Guard. William ran toward the Great Hall in his father's defense, weaponless, as the Huntsman drew his broadsword in a quick flash of steal.

Suddenly, an arrow whizzed past the Huntsman's head, and both he and Snow White jerked their heads heavenward to see the Northern reinforcements had been called…

… in the form of ten archers perched on the battlements high above them.

"I don't think my first ball is going as planned." Snow whispered.


	4. Chapter 4

*****OH HELLO!** I'm assuming no one who followed this story ever thought it would be updated again, but as the movie is on HBO now, and I recently gave it a good 'ol rewatch, I found my inspiration again. The plot is now much more involved and exciting than I ever originally intended, but the amazing response I received from you all when I published the first three chapters gave me the creative fuel to make it something more. So, I'm sorry it's taken me this long to pick it back up, I hope you enjoy a long-awaited fourth chapter, I hope you LOVE what's in store (I do), and I hope you tell me all of your feels by reviewing, because you readers are the BEST at it. This chapter's not too long but I can promise more to come. And if you haven't watched the movie in a while, I highly recommend it, because the special effects and the spooky, spooky tone and the medieval setting are all just as striking as they were the first time around. Hooray for an impending sequel. Now I leave you where I left off so long ago, with our hero and heroine staring death in the face...*******

**Chapter 4**

The Huntsman backed Snow up against the low wall of the garden as they gazed upward, shocked and motionless, at the archers poised to strike them from the towers above. Snow noted simultaneously – and with equal horror – that William had run directly into the fray within the ballroom to aid his father without a weapon in his hand or armor adorning his body, leaving him laughably vulnerable.

Snow did not miss the fact that the Huntsman had wedged his body directly in front of hers, blocking her from every archer's angle above them.

Four of the ten threw down two heavy ropes in order to overtake them (the Huntsman noted thankfully, in order to capture rather than kill them). But here was their mistake, and he knew to act quickly to capitalize on this error. The six remaining archers would not shoot down toward the balcony with their own men making their way down, and with only two ropes to guide them down, the descent of the four took longer than it should have.

The Huntsman sighed internally as he remember the other variable in this unlucky situation, and thought better of speaking his plan to the Queen before he acted on it.

None too gently (he was still angry at her for the exchange with William, after all) he shoved Snow White backward over the low garden wall.

She yelled angrily, as her voluminous skirts and the lush shrubbery in the gardens below broke the short fall. The Huntsman pulled a long dagger out of his belt and threw it at the first man down the ropes, the only one in danger of reaching them in time to capture. The man dropped to the ground to miss the dagger and the Huntsman reacted instantly by throwing himself over the wall after Snow.

But not before he felt the fiery agony of an arrow catching his left shoulder. He grunted as he hit the shrubs on his other side, the side of his sword hand. He was quick enough to throw the sword a mere two feet away to miss impaling himself.

Snow dragged him, stumbling, out of the bushes by his good arm, gasping as she saw the arrow. He reached behind with his right hand and cracked the arrow in half, leaving the sharp end embedded in his flesh for now.

"Run!" he said in the dangerous, low voice she already new from their previous flights.

"I can't! My court, we have to protect them. We can't run away." She kept her voice low too, as he picked up his sword and they moved swiftly to the other end of the garden. "We need to fight!" she whispered fiercely, standing still.

He knew they had not the time to neither fight nor stand still. He laid both hands on her shoulders.

"Snow, we've been ambushed. We have lost already, though as long as you escape with your life, we can reclaim what is yours. They will not kill everyone. The one person they _will_ slay to win this fight is you, and I will not let that happen. We run now, and we come back with reinforcements. My men will know what to do in our absence." His eyes blazed and she saw the absolute confidence and urgency there. He was scared but as the Captain of the Royal Guard, he had prepared for this. She nodded assent.

He grabbed her hand, forcing her to stay low as they ran across the garden to their well, their secret meeting place.

"The four that saw us over the wall will give chase. We can overtake them but the six they're with will follow soon after. We need to lead them out as far as possible first." He explained, barely making noise with his mouth.

"The forest?" she guessed. He nodded. "Dagger." She held out her hand and he rolled his eyes but handed another of his weapons over.

She immediately fisted her beautiful dress, stabbed into the skirts with the knife, and ripped away the layers, revealing soft tan knickers that stopped at the knees. Her sage green dancing slippers would just have to suffice in the rough terrain of the forest. He arched an eyebrow at her but said nothing.

They heard the first of the Northern attackers approaching. "I need you to run, Snow. I will follow." He promised. She nodded, wanting to fight but knowing better than to argue right now.

His urgent whispered, "Now!" sent her bolting upright, sprinting for the gate at the far side of the garden, an exceedingly frustrating 300 meters away. She heard the clash of steel behind her, followed by the unfamiliar scream of the Northern foe. She heard the Huntsman's footsteps closing in behind her. No, two sets of swift footsteps.

She abruptly stopped and turned to see her enemy a scant five paces behind. He wasn't prepared for her about-face, and as he slowed his approach she ducked and used his momentum to push him away from her, thrusting the small dagger up under his arm and into his ribs as he passed. He flailed his sword crazily and caught her hip before she could leap away. She hissed as the cut burned her flesh.

He went down, and she picked up the sword he could no longer hold properly. Just as she rose the full weight of her Huntsman careened into her person, knocking the breath out of her.

"Go!" he said simply, and together they bolted for the forest, swords in hand, the _Thwip!_ of arrows falling short behind them as their attackers loosed them from bows too far away. Snow tried to ignore the din coming from the ballroom they fled from.

"Don't stop!" he encouraged as they passed the outer gate and hit the fields of no-man's land between the castle grounds and the Dark Forest. The Huntsman knew these fields well; he and his men trained here, and he veered himself and Snow to the far left, toward the river. They would be harder to track running through the creek, and once they got to the spot where the creek became a rushing, deep river – nearly impossible to find.

They hit the tree line at full speed, breaking the silence of the forest with their thudding footfalls, bodies snapping branches as they streaked past, breathing hard and hearts thundering.

"Into the stream!" he directed, but he didn't have to, as Snow was already slowing to step carefully over the rocks and into the steady flow. He followed, and their splashing caused too much noise for his comfort. "If we follow the waterflow a few more paces, we should hit the falls." He said. She could only pant in reply. The falls were big enough to deserve the name, but not so big that leaping into them would cause certain death – just a terribly uncomfortable dip in a white water currents.

As they marched through river rocks and muddy, dark waters, they heard the faint shouts of their pursuers. "Faster!" he urged, grabbing her upper arm to hurry her along. She saw the water dip out of sight up ahead, and heard the sounds of rushing water below, and swallowed her fright as she glanced at the Huntsman.

"Let the water wash you over the edge, do not leap, keep your feet beneath you. It's deep enough you won't break anything at the bottom, just hold your breath and do not flail. Throw the sword out in front so it flows away from you!" he instructed. "Is there a time you won't have to save me?" she lamented, big eyes connected with his soulfully before tossing the sword out in front of her, grabbing his hand, and together they threw themselves over the fall's cliff.

They hit the swirling water below with the splash that was thankfully swallowed up by the thunder of water hitting water around them. They let the water sweep them toward their weapons, catching them with the hands that were not clutching each others.

"Ready to swim?" he yelled over the rush of the river. She let go of his hand and began cutting through the water with confident strokes in response, he followed suit thankfully. The already swift movement of the water kept them from having to swim very hard, and they let the current work with them to take them over several more small drops until the water gradually slowed.

They hit a murky, more stagnant part of the river surrounded by huge red oak trees. The Dark Forest, though no longer cursed with the residue of Revena's evil magic, still held plenty of sinister creatures and hallucinogenic plants to be wary of. With the quieter flow of the water in this part of the river, they could hear the mysterious sounds of a forest alive at night; animals swiftly leaping through branches above their heads, rutting in nearby brambles, lurking in pools of black water in the deep river around them. They could also begin to hear again the sounds of pursuers.

The Huntsman grabbed Snow White and pulled her to the right, against an upturned section of earth caught amidst the roots of a felled tree. The hanging, caked mud created a sort of cave jutting against the edge of the river, the water deep enough to hide their bodies and the roots big enough to cover their heads.

The footsteps and voices were getting louder, and the water was too deep for Snow to stand in without treading water. The Huntsman furrowed his brow as he grabbed her, pulling her body against his, putting a cautionary hand over her mouth to muffle the sound of her wearied panting against the amplifying effect of the still water.

If their lives had not been in the most mortal peril, she might have been excited by their wet bodies pressed close together in the solitude of the forest, her back up against his chest, one of his arms like a tense steel band around her waist, the other a coiled, bunched collection of vice-like muscle and sinew nestled up between her breasts to press a warm hand over the bottom half of her face.

Were they not trapped in a terrible game of cat-and-mouse, he might have thrilled at having the softness of her body so lush against him, warm and wet and willingly in his arms. His mind escaped in an instant to sunny summer days where he could swim with her, in private, in this very wood, the two of them splashing and laughing together, pulling each other close in private, their sun-warmed wet limbs brushing against each other as they exchanged kisses in the cool stream.

The voices got louder. Closer.


End file.
